From an Abandoned Fanfic
by Paul Corrigan
Summary: Miyako Miyazawa on the daughter complexes of her husband and her father. (Part of a longer story now on hold indefinitely, hence the title. Comments appreciated on what I have; suggestions on how to proceed especially so. ^


One never forgets one's first love.  
  
Even if one's first love has flown, apparently never to return, even if   
one has recovered as best one can, one has matured, perhaps found a   
spouse, settled down, moved on fifteen or twenty years down the road or   
even further, none of it would matter. The moment one's first love   
crosses one's path again, one is again a child in love, with all   
thought of the passing years flown from the mind, all thought of other   
loves abandoned, all thought of other hearts. It would not matter even   
if one's first love were dead; just a glimpse of the ghost would be   
enough to make one betray all others in one's heart.  
  
A glimpse of the ghost of one's first love would be enough, even if the   
person whose ghost it was were still alive. It would be enough even if   
the person had never left one at all.  
  
--  
From an Abandoned Fanfic  
--  
A _Kareshi Kanojo no Jijo_ (_Karekano_) fanfic by Paul Corrigan  
--  
_Karekano_ concept devised by Masami Tsuda  
--  
  
Everyone who knows Yukino and myself has been struck by how much we   
look alike, even allowing for the fact we are mother and daughter. Even   
I must admit, looking back at old photos of myself, that except for her   
short hair she could easily pass for myself at sixteen. She has my hair   
(straight auburn), my eyes (hazel), and most of the rest of my facial   
features as a matter of fact. She looks quite unlike Tsukino and Kano,   
who are more like their father. It's become more obvious recently that   
Yukino has my shape too, though you'll forgive me if I withhold the   
details there.  
  
Not because it's a bad shape. I'm actually quite proud of my girlish   
figure. Now this sounds like pure self-fllattery, I know, but the fact   
is I've often been taken for a woman far younger than thirty-seven, and   
I must admit being called "miss" can be quite flattering sometimes.   
  
However, there's more to it than that. Our daughters have been begging   
for me to open the family purse and buy them a computer for some time   
now, ostensibly so they can research their assignments on the Internet   
and type them rather than having to write them out long-hand. I suppose   
they must be starting to wear me down, because one day recently I went   
into the electronics store in the shopping center, just to see if there   
were any we could afford. They mustn't get many attractive women in   
there (if I may call myself that), because the young man behind the   
counter--he can't have been more than seventeen--fell over himself   
trying to help me pick something out. I'm quite sure he gave me a once-  
over when I came in, though he tried not to be too obvious about it. I   
admit that alone would have been flattering--he was a nice boy, very   
polite, very helpful--but then he said, "Um, miss?"  
  
"Yes?" I said, playing along.  
  
"I don't mean to pry, but...you look like someone I know. Are you   
related to Yukino Miyazawa? She's a classmate of mine..."  
  
I just smiled. "Yes, as a matter of fact..."  
  
"Are you her sister, or...?"  
  
"Her mother, actually."  
  
The poor boy went quite red and spluttered. "I'm sorry, ma'am."  
  
"That's all right."   
  
He apologized several more times before I left, begging that he'd meant   
no offense. It's possible he was just afraid I wouldn't buy anything   
(and in fact I didn't that day, not for that reason, mind you), but I   
think I just embarrassed him.  
  
That means, I suppose, that I've aged surprisingly gracefully. I tried   
to assure the boy (in vain) that I wasn't at all offended by being   
taken for Yukino's sister, and it was true. He noticed the resemblance   
without prompting, and he seems to have liked what he saw. I suppose   
that isn't really surprising. Yukino _is_ very beautiful, and always   
has been. If I do get credit for being the main contributor to that, so   
much the better.   
  
However, I like to think I'm a good enough mother that I've given her   
more than her looks. It's amazing how much she's matured over the past   
year or so, not just in her looks--though that was true as well--but in   
her personality. I say this not to flatter myself, but because by about   
a year ago she had become so insufferable as to make me wonder what I   
had done something wrong. Hiroyuki and I never flattered our children   
that they were better than other people, but on the other hand we never   
forced them to be succeed or achieve at school or anywhere else just on   
our account. We were sure all that would do is make them resent us even   
if they did turn out to be successful and talented, and in any case   
neither of us had ever been anything but easy-going. To Hiroyuki in   
particular, his job, or any job, had always been a way of making a   
living and nothing more. He says he's the only one in his department   
who actually goes home at five. He jokes about it, but I know I'm   
incredibly lucky to have him.  
  
Yukino was beautiful and talented, and she knew it, and she learned   
early on how much it impressed people. That would have been fine on its   
own; however--I still don't know just how or why--her desire for public   
admiration knew no bounds, and she'd do everything humanly possible to   
get it, to the exclusion of all else. She was the top student in her   
class every single year in kindergarten, in year out, because she did   
nothing but study. She was already pulling all-nighters in the lower   
grades of elementary school, trying to absorb everything she could   
possibly absorb in every single subject just so her teachers would have   
nothing but praise for her; if we tried to make her go to bed she would   
throw tantrums. She had no hobbies. Aside from her duties in student   
government she did nothing after hours at school. I'm sure she had no   
real friends. Certainly she never brought anybody over to play. On the   
contrary, she told us quite openly that she didn't want anybody seeing   
what she was like at home, because (she said--I couldn't have made this   
up, trust me) if she did she risked the truth leaking out that she was   
not without flaw.  
  
And flawed she was. We were the only ones who saw it, because we were   
the only people who knew her as she really was. All everybody else saw   
was her "perfect student" persona, and all everyone ever told her was   
how wonderful they thought she was, and it made her extremely   
conceited, holding all others (with the exception, admittedly of   
ourselves, because we knew better) in contempt. She laughed at the ease   
with which they could be fooled. She certainly had no real affection   
for any of them. She had an especially bad habit of laughing about the   
many admirers who would from time to time ask her to be theirs,   
lampooning their attempts to pour out their hearts to her in every   
detail, not thinking how difficult it must have been for them. Her   
opinion was that men were only useful as sources of income, and she   
said so. If she had received a love letter, she would read it out loud   
at home just for fun.  
  
There was one incident when she was in her last year of junior high. I   
cite this incident not because I necessarily blame her for what   
happened. Probably it would have happened anyway. I doubt somehow,   
however, that other girls would have reacted as she did. On St.   
Valentine's Day Yukino, in her capacity as queen of her class, I   
suppose, condescended to distribute chocolate to all the boys. One   
young man--I won't name him; his name doesn't matter anyway--apparently   
jumped up upon receiving his share and asked for her hand in marriage.   
In retrospect the boy was almost certainly disturbed, and unfortunately   
he seems to have been famous around the school for being a bit more   
eccentric than would make other people comfortable. The reason I know   
this is because Yukino described him to us at the dinner table as   
"crazy as hell _and_ piss-poor" and said, "If he wants to get married   
that quick, I'll set him up at the mental hospital."  
  
That would have been bad enough, except that a few days later the boy   
threw himself in front of a commuter train.   
  
The news was announced at the next school assembly, and Yukino, as his   
class representative, was asked to make a statement. According to   
Tsukino and Kano (whose school she attended at the time) the statement   
was in good taste and well delivered, or so they reported at dinner.  
  
That was Yukino's cue to snicker again and say, "So get to the point,   
guys. Did I look cool or what?"  
  
They didn't know how to respond to that. I was by now well used to her   
callousness, but that was a bit much even for me. I put down my   
chopsticks and asked, "Yukino, one of your classmates is dead, and all   
you care about is how good it made you look?"  
  
"Uh, yeah. What, you think I'm sorry for the guy? I'm glad he's dead.   
So is everybody else. Jeez, Mom. Not like anybody actually liked the   
guy. The fewer crazies like him walking around, the better." She   
laughed again. "If I were queen I'd round 'em all up and shoot 'em.   
It'd cost less than Prozac, that's for sure. 'Least the guy came in   
somewhat useful before he went to hell. That, and he won't be showing   
me up in class any more. Which is nice. Not like I can actually tell   
someone, 'Sorry, I'm not interested, all I want from a guy is money and   
you don't have any,' you know? It's actually better this way than   
having to tell him over and over, 'I really think we should just stay   
friends,' because he might actually believe it and then he won't ever   
give up." She sighed. "It's really hard being everybody's darling, you   
have no idea. I disgust myself sometimes with the stuff I have to   
say..."  
  
We all just stared at her. I couldn't believe this was my own daughter.   
I certainly couldn't believe this was the girl everyone else had   
nothing but praise for.  
  
So I said, "Yukino, I'm glad you disgust yourself, because you disgust   
me."  
  
"Why? What'd I say?"  
  
Hiroyuki spluttered and changed the subject.   
  
Yukino never gave anybody outside a clue about what she was like in   
private. At home, perhaps to compensate, she completely let herself go,   
showing us far more than I really would have wanted to see.   
  
Admittedly, this was an extreme example. More often Yukino's sisters   
just laughed at the "Queen of Fake" who was so perfect in public and so   
vain, self-centered and cruel in private. Hiroyuki and I just shook our   
heads and feared for her future. All her achievements as a student   
(which were genuine enough) came to mean very little to me. I'm not   
afraid to admit I was ashamed of her. I would certainly have been   
ashamed to admit we were anything alike. Hiroyuki, for his part, never   
dared compare her to me back then. Quite the contrary--he was the one   
who'd console me and try to assure me it wasn't my fault she was how   
she was. I wished I dared tell other people about it, but everyone, I   
suppose, is somewhat concerned about their family's public image. So I   
just told people when they praised Yukino to the skies, "Yes, I wonder   
sometimes where we got her ourselves," and let them think what they   
wanted.  
  
Love is capable of amazing things. One day it was as if a light had   
gone on inside Yukino's heart that changed her completely. Some people   
worry about the idea of their daughters hanging around men. I don't   
worry about Yukino around Soichiro Arima. I thank God for him every day   
of my life.  
  
I'm sure Soichiro had something to do with Yukino's transformation,   
because he was the first person she ever dared to invite over, boy or   
girl. That meant, I suppose, that she no longer cared about whether or   
not he knew her as she was. If her true nature really had been the   
Yukino I knew, I'm sure he would have taken one look and run for his   
life. But he did not run, because--I'm sure of it--he'd unlocked   
something inside her that none of us had ever seen before. I say this   
because he was by no means the last. It was as if a floodgate had   
opened. She started making friends left and right, friends that saw her   
as she was and loved and trusted her all the same; Soichiro was just   
the first. She remained an excellent student, but (despite her   
protestations to the contrary) it was no longer all she cared about,   
which suited me just fine.  
  
I've wondered how Soichiro, in particular, was able to be her friend,   
probably the first real one she'd ever had. She had her choice of   
admirers, as I said. She had said she wanted to marry somebody rich and   
good-looking, which, I dare say, Soichiro is. It was also true that he   
was a superb student, of at least her caliber; he was the first   
classmate for whom she dared admit even a grudging admiration, and soon   
made the index by which she compared herself (which itself was   
completely unlike the Yukino I'd known before). So if she'd merely been   
calculating, he would have been the perfect mate for her.  
  
But that won't wash. It's too clever by half. Some are calculating in   
marriage; nobody is that calculating in love.   
  
Hiroyuki was an orphan. It was his grandfather who raised him. When   
Hiroyuki was in his last year of high school, his grandfather died as   
well. I'd known Hiroyuki since childhood, and by that point we'd been   
seeing each other for some time, and I said to Hiroyuki, after his   
grandfather's wake, that I hoped I could replace his grandfather. That   
was a naïve thing to say, I know. Only an adolescent could have said it   
straight-faced. But he believed it, because he wanted desperately to   
believe it. He really had nobody else. At any rate, I made as good on   
my promise as anybody really could, because I've looked after Hiroyuki   
ever since.  
  
Soichiro's parents are alive, but when I've asked he speaks of them   
only in pleasant generalities. He speaks of everybody in pleasant   
generalities. He could not do that if he was close to anybody in   
particular, least of all his parents. I don't think he dares get close   
to many people. When he is at our house he seems always to be on his   
guard. I've never seen him completely relaxed.  
  
The more I see of Soichiro, the more he reminds me of Hiroyuki. I say   
that not because they look much alike (they don't), but because he   
seems to be the sort who has nobody else. Yukino seems to have not only   
attracted that sort, but fallen for one as well.   
  
I did too.  
  
This is not a bad thing as far as it goes. I trust Soichiro around my   
daughter. I'm sure they are a good match, because I know that Hiroyuki   
and I were a good match. I can't imagine life without him.   
  
It's funny--the joke one always hears is that women are supposed to   
turn into their mothers _after_ they marry. For her part, poor Yukino   
seems to be turning into me far before her time. I would like to think,   
of course, that that would leave her a far better person than she was   
before. Even if it didn't, though, it wouldn't be all that surprising,   
because long before I married my father definitely saw in me my mother   
reborn.  
  
Hiroyuki for his part is seeing in Yukino myself reborn, more and more   
with each passing day, and he says so. I like to think I have good   
reason if that frightens me.  
  
--  
  
Father was taken into the hospital a few weeks ago complaining of chest   
pains; it turned out he had had a mild heart attack. He was expected to   
recover fully, but his health recently had not been the best, so the   
doctors decided to take the precaution of keeping him there for   
observation for a few days. Recently he has become visibly more frail,   
and I'm sure living on his own must be getting harder for him, though   
he'll never admit that. So I've been visiting him more and more often   
lately, and even if I hadn't would have felt obliged to go see him at   
the hospital. When I called him I actually asked him if I should bring   
the girls as well, but he said, as if it were nothing, "Sure there's no   
point making a big fuss now I know I'm not dying, and even if I was I'd   
rather they'd remember me fit as a fiddle."  
  
It breaks my heart when he does this. My mother died from complications   
after having me, and father never remarried, so after I left there was   
nobody left to look after him at home. Now that his friends from work   
are starting to die (and in fact he hadn't many of those) he is getting   
more and more isolated. That's why I've been going to see him so often,   
because he too has nobody else. I'm sure that's what's killing him.  
  
He lit up when I entered the room where he was in bed, and beamed. "Oh   
there you are at last! Sit down, sit down! I was beginning to think   
you'd never show up!"  
  
I was in fact a bit late, but I'd stopped on the way to get him some   
flowers. He's been going in to the hospital more and more often, and   
these rooms can be depressing. "I brought you these," I said, holding   
the bouquet out to him.  
  
He just sniffed. "I'd have been happier if they'd been smokes. Sure I   
can't smoke those."  
  
"You know you can't smoke in here, father."  
  
"Or food. You can't believe how bad the food is in here, much worse   
than last time." He looked up and me and smiled again. "Sure some of   
your cooking would have done my poor heart good, Miyako."  
  
I sat down with the bouquet on my lap and smiled back indulgently. The   
older he gets, the more childish he gets. "Now father, you could get my   
cooking a lot more often if you'd just move in with us, like I keep   
asking you to do."  
  
He scowled at me and laughed harshly. "If I have to share it with   
Hiroyuki Miyazawa I don't want it." It was my mistake even mentioning   
it. We've had this conversation a hundred times, and a hundred times   
he's given me a stern look and said, "What I want to know is why you   
don't come home and look after your poor old father, like you should   
have done long ago, rather than wasting your time with that fella."  
  
"And I shouldn't look after the girls?"  
  
"Sure the girls can come with you, can't they, now? Or is it money   
you're worried about? Sure can they not work, and them big girls now?   
Sending three girls to high school, are you mad, and them just going to   
get married? Sure your one Yukino's got nothing to worry about, and her   
having caught that grand, fine-looking fella already--what did you say   
his name was again?"  
  
"Father, don't be a child. I'm not going to leave Hiroyuki and you know   
it."  
  
"You never knew what was good for you."  
  
"Father," I said, a little cattily I admit, "I like to think I've done   
quite well for myself catching Hiroyuki who just happens to be a   
wonderful man, a loving husband for nineteen years and the father of my   
three lovely daughters. If I'd thought he wasn't just right for me, I'd   
have left him long before now. If you can't handle that, father, that's   
too bad."  
  
He looked away, scowling. "Why do I waste my breath, and me not having   
that many left to draw..."  
  
"If you won't come live with us, father, you'll need someone else to   
look after you."  
  
"Like who? A 24-hour nurse? Sure I'm not at death's door yet!"  
  
"I actually meant you should find a wife."  
  
"A wife? Me?" He just laughed. "Sure who'd have me at my age?"  
  
"If you'd go out more, I'm sure you'd meet plenty of eligible women,   
father."   
  
"Eligible? Hah! Do you not mean widows? Sure that'd be all I need, an   
auld woman around nagging me at my age, always going on about what a   
grand fella her old husband was, that'd kill me even faster!"  
  
"Now, father," I said, smiling a little, "do you not think you couldn't   
find somebody younger? You're still handsome." It was true. Mother was   
much younger than father when they married; she worked as a clerk in   
the police barracks where father was an officer.  
  
"Sure, why would they want an old man, unless he has money?"  
  
"So, marry an old woman with money. Then when she dies, take the money   
and go back and find a pretty girl you like and marry her."   
  
I tittered, because I was being absurd on purpose, but he didn't find   
it at all funny. "What? Sure what if the auld one took too long to   
die?"  
  
"You won't die that fast if at least someone's there for you. Father,   
please, stop making excuses. It's not like you're incapable of finding   
a sweetheart. You need someone there for you. I've been telling you   
this for years."  
  
He looked up at me, seeming suddenly to plead. "What's wrong with you?"  
  
I stopped smiling and said, "Father, you want me all to yourself, and   
I've been telling you for years that you can't have me all to yourself.   
Hiroyuki and the girls need me too. If you want someone just for you,   
find yourself a wife."  
  
He looked away. "Your mother'd never forgive me."  
  
"Father, don't do this. Do you think mother would have wanted you to   
die alone?"  
  
He thought about that a moment, and then looked back at me, with a   
strange look on his face, and said firmly, "Miyako, why would I want to   
marry someone else when the loveliest girl in the world is sitting   
right before me?"  
  
I looked away. "Father, please, no."  
  
"I couldn't marry again, because then I'd see you and all I'd be able   
to think of is your mother, and what sort of a husband could I be then   
if I--"  
  
"Father, stop it!" I had meant to raise my voice, but involuntarily it   
turned into almost a yell.  
  
He stopped it. He lay back in the bed, looking ashamed. Ashamed and sad   
and very old.   
  
"So how are the girls then?" he said.  
  
I stayed a little longer, as he let me talk about whatever I wanted,   
perhaps to placate me so I wouldn't run away. I could tell he really   
was ashamed, so I did stay, but at last I ran out of things to say, so   
I stood up and said, "I really should go, father. I need to go home and   
start some dinner."  
  
He clearly wasn't happy about that, but he said, "Give me the flowers,   
pet. I'll ask the nurse to put them in some water. Will you tell the   
girls I said hello?"  
  
Not Hiroyuki. He never sends Hiroyuki his regards. "Of course, father.   
Are you sure you don't want them to come see you?"  
  
"Ah, sure, there's no point. I'll be out of here the day after tomorrow   
anyway."  
  
"Suit yourself." I gave him the bouquet (with a smile), and grabbed my   
purse. "I'll come see you at home, all right?"  
  
"All right. Thanks for coming by, Miyako, it was lovely to see you.   
Nobody could ever accuse you of neglecting your old man."  
  
He always says that. And I always say, "Why would I, father?"  
  
And he always replies, "Plenty of girls would. I'm a lucky man."  
  
And I always smile and say, "Thank you, father. Take care of yourself   
now. Goodbye," and make to go.  
  
This time, just as I'd turned around, though, he spoke to me again,   
with a hint of guilt in his voice, as if asking for something he   
shouldn't.  
  
"Miyako..."  
  
"Yes, father?" I turned back. He was looking at me with hope in his   
eyes. Even desire. Like a boy begging a favor from his sweetheart.  
  
"Will you not give your old man a kiss before you go?"  
  
Of course I could not refuse. "All right." So I went back, bent down   
and gave him a peck on the cheek.  
  
It's amazing how much he lit up when I did. "Oh, Miyako, you're so good   
to me! I feel like getting up and walking away from this miserable bed   
right this instant..."  
  
I smiled, a bit too thinly, and said, "You'll stay right in that bed   
like the doctors told you to." I turned away again. "Goodbye, father."   
And with that I walked out of the room far too quickly.  
  
--  
  
That was during the day on Saturday. Yukino had a date with Soichiro   
that evening. Partly to indulge herself, partly to impress him, she had   
bought herself a new dress out of her allowance that day; she had had   
no school that day, and so she had been out shopping with her friends.   
Just before he arrived she modelled it for us all in the front room. It   
was a shoulderless dress, a blue one with a short skirt. She seems to   
like dresses of that sort, and this one would have been nice enough as   
well, except that this time around the skirt was a bit too short for a   
sixteen-year-old girl to be wearing, and the dress itself was a bit too   
flattering of her figure.  
  
"So what do y'all think?" she asked us, making a pirouette to give us   
all a view from all angles as she did so.  
  
Kano giggled in her way perfectly calculated to give everyone the   
shivers. She always does when she's about to make a remark that a girl   
her age shouldn't be making. I've never worried about her like I have   
about Yukino, but she does sometimes act a bit too mature for my taste.  
  
"If that won't get him in the mood, nothing will...!"  
  
"_He_ might not be the only one, Yukino," I began. "Are you sure..."  
  
"I think it's just fine, Mom," Tsukino said.  
  
Of course I had really wanted Hiroyuki's opinion, but once I had it I   
wished he'd been silent.  
  
"I think she looks beautiful, Miyako! Of course, Yukino would look   
beautiful in anything!"  
  
"Better than Mom?" asked Kano, apparently enjoying the opportunity to   
bait her father. I wish she wouldn't.   
  
"It's hard to tell! Looking at her reminds me of your mother at age   
sixteen, when she'd just captured my heart...oh, what a thrill it   
brings to my heart..."  
  
"_I_ never wore anything like that when I was sixteen, _dear._" I hate   
it when he starts to talk like this.   
  
"Dad, please don't start, all right?" The bell rang, and Yukino must   
have been glad for a chance to escape, because she made for it   
immediately. "I'll get it."  
  
It was of course Soichiro, and he came into the front room to say   
hello. He bowed politely and said, "How is everyone?"  
  
I stood up and smiled. He really is a nice boy. "Quite well, thank you.   
You'll have Yukino back by eleven, right, Soichiro?"  
  
"Of course, Mrs. Miyazawa."  
  
"Mom, have we ever been late?" Yukino protested.  
  
Before I could reply, though, Kano started again. "Nah, you're way too   
anal, Sis. Hey, Arima! How long have you got? I'm helping my friend   
Megumi draw an original comic! Wanna see the sketches?"  
  
"Some other time, we're in a bit of a hurry..." Soichiro said, waving   
his hand and looking somewhat cornered.   
  
Apparently it was just then that Hiroyuki realized that Yukino was   
going out with Soichiro in that dress, and his mood changed completely.   
He stood up and said, "Good God, Yukino! You're letting _Soichiro_ see   
you in that? Are you crazy? Have you any idea what sort of ideas you   
might put into his..."  
  
Yukino groaned. "Okay, we're out of here. Come on, Arima, let's go. See   
you later, Mom."  
  
Soichiro smiled weakly and said, "Mr. Miyazawa, there's absolutely   
nothing to worry about." He said that, but my husband's ravings had   
succeeded in inducing Soichiro to look Yukino over and blush. "See you   
later, Mrs. Miyazawa."  
  
"See you later." I saw them to the door and waved them goodbye, while   
my husband continued to rave in the background.  
  
"No! Yukino! Think what might happen! Arima! Don't you dare..."  
  
I turned back and went back inside the front room. "She's already gone,   
_dear._ You know, I wish you were half as jealous over me. Or half as   
complimentary, come to think of it."  
  
"I'm just worried about her," Hiroyuki protested.  
  
"_You're_ the one who worries me sometimes," I said.  
  
"Yeah, Dad!" Kano started again. "You're the one who said Yukino was   
better looking than Mom! Pervert!"  
  
"Hey! I did _not_ say that..."  
  
I just shook my head and left the room. I really wish Kano wouldn't   
make light of it like this, but then she's not the target. He never   
gets like this around Tsukino and Kano, just Yukino, and he's made it   
clear why. It isn't just that she is the one who looks most like me,   
though that's part of it. As her personality matured, especially after   
she met Soichiro, her personality's gotten more and more like mine as   
well. To him, it might well be that it's like seeing the girl he first   
fell in love with reborn.   
  
Here's what's disturbing about it. Once or twice he's let slip that   
seeing Yukino evokes "strange feelings" within him, and when he did he   
used a tone that no father should use when speaking of his own   
daughter. I'm sure it disturbed Yukino, because I know it disturbed me.   
The thing is, he never talked like this before Yukino started seeing   
Soichiro--that is, before she started turning into me.  
  
I'm sure you're thinking I must be overstating things, perhaps out of   
jealousy. I admit that having to hear from my own husband that our   
daughter is, if anything, more beautiful than I am is bad enough, but I   
do not hold it against her. Her only crime is resembling her mother,   
and she is not happy about her father's brand of flattery. Here is the   
real problem, or rather, my real fear. When flattering Yukino he always   
qualifies it with a comparison to myself, specifically myself at her   
age. To him Yukino is the avatar of the first woman he desired--myself   
as a young girl--and for that reason he desires her in just the same   
way.  
  
I've seen it happen before. To my father, I was the avatar of the only   
woman he'd ever desired, my mother. So when I became a woman he began   
to desire me too.  
  
So I can't be jealous of Yukino, because I live in fear she'll suffer   
my fate.   
  
--  
  
I know what that sounds like, so I had better clarify just what that   
fate was.   
  
I have no reason to believe Hiroyuki would ever dare touch Yukino, much   
less force himself on her. I have no reason because my father never   
forced himself on me, and that was not because he had no opportunity.   
I'm no fool. I'd have never let my daughters near him if he had.   
  
As I said, he never remarried, and so I was alone with father in our   
house, and, our house being fairly small, we lived at rather close   
quarters. We had only one bedroom; when I was little I frequently slept   
with father in his bed, and as I matured and began to demand more   
privacy there were only limited accommodations that could be made; a   
screen divided his side of the room and mine.  
  
I am sure father never remarried because to him mother, or rather her   
memory, was so perfect no woman could replace her. We had a shrine to   
her memory; he prayed at it daily, and held her up to me, too, as the   
perfect woman. Of course, I never knew her, so when I was younger I did   
not argue the point. He did have the irritating habit (which got even   
more irritating the older I got) of saying, when we had had a heated   
discussion which he wanted to declare closed, "Well, that's my opinion,   
and I'm sure your mother would agree with me." Then there was nothing   
more to be said. It's much harder to argue with the dead than the   
living, if only because they will not dignify one's arguments with a   
response.  
  
Back in the land of the living, when I was little I was, for all   
practical purposes, a wife to father, in all ways but one. That last   
one did not occur to me for a long time, of course, but I know now that   
he must have had girlfriends, probably several. He was a handsome   
fellow. There were occasional nights when he'd go out after work and   
not come back until morning and I'd have to put myself to bed, which I   
presume he spent with a girl, though he never let on. When I'd ask him   
what he'd done and who he'd seen when he came back, innocently, to make   
conversation with him, he would get extremely defensive and refuse to   
tell me, saying, "Nobody you know." Occasionally I'd go to the police   
barracks after school and when I'd get there he'd be chatting up a   
pretty clerk and laughing with her, but when he saw me he'd stop and   
become very serious. Certainly he'd never introduce me. There was no   
point. After all, he had no intention of marrying again, so there was   
no chance any woman I'd see him with would ever be my mother.  
  
One day after that had happened--I can't have been more than eight--I   
asked him after he'd come home, "Who were you talking to at work?"  
  
He looked away, like a husband evading the gaze of a jealous wife,   
though I'm sure I wasn't the least bit jealous. "Nobody important."  
  
"Is she your girlfriend?"  
  
He put down his chopsticks, looked at me as if I'd lost my senses and   
said, "Sure what would I want with one of those?"  
  
"You're a boy, aren't you?" A naive thing to say, but I was a child.  
  
"That's no reason."  
  
"I thought boys liked having girlfriends." Or so Hiroyuki had told me.   
We lived in the same neighborhood, and when we were younger often   
played together. I asked him if he had a girlfriend and he said no. I   
had offered to be his girlfriend and he had refused because I wasn't   
pretty enough. I cried and he said he was sorry, so I forgave him.  
  
"They only need girlfriends if they're looking for a wife to look after   
them. I've got a wife. Your mother would cry if I had a girlfriend."  
  
"Mother's dead, though. She can't look after you any more, right?"  
  
"Of course she looks after me, pet. Because you still do." He smiled at   
me. "Listen. There's only two women I'd ever want looking after me.   
One's your mother, may she rest in peace. The other one's you. You look   
after me as well as she did, and that's all I could ever ask for. What   
care I for a girlfriend when I've all I want right here?" At the time,   
I smiled too, and the answer satisfied me. Being compared to the most   
perfect woman who ever lived was the highest compliment for a child.  
  
But I couldn't remain a child forever. It would have been better if I   
had, because at last I began to blossom. To turn into mother.  
  
I, too, looked remarkably like mother. It started when I was twelve; I   
know the precise day, because it was the day before I started junior   
high school. Father had the day off, and we had gone to get my new   
uniform. Of course I tried it in the fitting room at the clothing store   
to see if it fit, but when I got home he asked me to model it for him   
in front of him. I was eager to oblige; I was extremely proud to be   
starting junior high at last.  
  
I lifted the side of the skirt and twirled in it with delight. "Well,   
father?" I said, looking to him for approval. "Do I look pretty?"  
  
He was sitting in front of me in the front room, looking at me   
intently--a bit too intently--and said, "Oh, you're more than pretty,   
pet. You're beautiful."  
  
"Thank you!" I giggled.  
  
"As beautiful as your mother." He paused, and looked me over. When he   
resumed it was in a different tone, one I'd never heard from him   
before. "You know, pet, the more I look at you these days, the more I   
think of her."  
  
"Really?" I didn't understand, so I giggled again. "Am I really as   
pretty as mother was?"  
  
"It's as if your mother had come back to life before my eyes. I feel   
fifteen years younger just looking at you." And as he said it he rose,   
went behind my back, and draped his arms around my neck, and kissed me.   
The kiss was chaste enough--on the top of my head--but he had never   
been the most physically affectionate sort, so I couldn't help but be   
surprised.  
  
I wasn't quite sure how to respond, so I said, "Thank you."  
  
"Why? All I'm saying's the truth."  
  
"If you say so, father." I felt a little uncomfortable, but for the   
life of me I wasn't sure why. I disentangled myself from his embrace   
and said, more to change the subject than anything else, "I should   
start the dinner. Do you want me to draw your bath before I do,   
father?"  
  
He smiled pleasantly and said, "Ah, sure, you'd best go first. You're   
the one who's making her debut tomorrow and needs to look beautiful,   
right?"  
  
"Father, I'm going to school, not to a ball. Besides, you've got a long   
day ahead of you tomorrow, too."  
  
"Ah sure, there's no great urgency for the likes of me. I'll scrub and   
scrub and scrub, and I'll still be as ugly as ever."  
  
I giggled. "You're not ugly, father. You're as handsome as ever."  
  
"Your mother said that, too. Of course _she_ meant what she said."  
  
"So do I! You're a handsome man, father. I'm not the only one who   
thinks so. I've seen the girls in the barracks look at you. You could   
have a girlfriend any day."  
  
He paused, and thought about that. "Really."  
  
"Really!"  
  
"Hm." He looked at me for a moment, in that same strange fashion, then   
shook his head as if to clear it and said, "Look, you get into the   
bath. I'll do the dinner tonight."  
  
"No, father, you first."  
  
"What? Are you afraid I'll poison you?"  
  
"I'll cook, father. Into the bath with you," I said, pointing towards   
the bathroom.  
  
"We'll neither of us get a bath at this rate." Father thought a moment,   
then looked at me again, that way. Suddenly I placed it. It was the   
same sort of look I'd gotten in the schoolyard from boys when they   
thought I wasn't looking, and sometimes when they were. From the nicer   
boys, I mean. He wasn't leering, but he did look very hungry.  
  
"We could play rock-scissors-paper for it," I suggested, and I'm sure   
the tension showed in my voice.   
  
"Or we could go together."  
  
"_What?_"  
  
"It'll end the argument," he said, as if it were the most natural thing   
in the world.  
  
"Father!" I tried to sound scandalized and not afraid. "We can't do   
that!"  
  
"Why not? Sure you used to take baths with me all the time--"  
  
"Father, I'm not a child any more!"  
  
He snapped out of it, blinked, and then perhaps it hit him what he'd   
asked me to do, because he blushed, looked ashamed, and said in a   
guilty voice, "No, pet, you're not. I'm sorry." He spluttered. "Draw   
the bath. I'll go first."  
  
It was just coincidence, of course, but I'd lost contact with Hiroyuki   
when he'd gone to junior high, and it was that next morning when I,   
quite literally, ran into him again.  
  
--  
  
To father's credit, he never asked me to do such a thing again.   
  
If I had to guess, though, I'd say he was testing my limits, trying to   
see what I would let him get away with, trying to see, perhaps, how   
receptive I would be. I'll never know what would have happened if I had   
given in. Perhaps he would have been content to feast his eyes, and   
fantasized over it later. Perhaps not. If we were bathing together, he   
surely would have asked me to scrub him, or asked to scrub me.  
  
I'm sure I did become fuel for his fantasies. I've said we slept   
together, with a screen separating us. Sometimes--when I was awake but   
I was quiet enough that he must have thought I was asleep--I'd hear him   
shift in bed and his breath become ragged, and once or twice while he   
was doing that he'd mutter my name under his breath. Far more often it   
was my mother's name, but once or twice was enough.  
  
That was only the beginning, though. As time went on I caught him   
staring at me like that more and more, and when I caught him he'd look   
away and apologize for staring. He didn't do it every day, or even   
every other day, but often enough that I'd notice. As time went on, as   
well, he started complimenting me more and more on how I'd become as   
beautiful as mother. The compliments never gave me any pleasure. They   
still don't.  
  
What he did when I wasn't paying attention, of course, I don't know. It   
would have been easy enough for him to look at me in the bath, or look   
around the screen to watch me change, but I never caught him doing   
that. This is not to say, of course, that he never did. That's the   
problem really. I couldn't help but think he might, so even in the bath   
I was on guard.   
  
So he never touched me, but there were many handsome boys at school I   
thought of kissing but had the wit not to. Even now I've been married   
to Hiroyuki for nearly twenty years I still look and know not to touch.   
Father looked, and knew not to touch once he knew what I was not   
willing to do, but he liked what he saw. Why wouldn't he? Mother had   
been the perfect woman. The more I became like her, the more desirable   
I got.  
  
I say all this not knowing how he truly felt about his urges. Call me   
naive, but I want to believe they disturbed him as much as they did me.   
He looked guilty enough when I caught him staring, seeming to know he   
shouldn't be doing that; he never tried to make excuses for himself. Of   
course, that did not stop him from doing it again. In all likelihood he   
really could not help himself. Nobody asks to burn with desire for   
somebody that they know they can't have.   
  
None of this meant I didn't still care about my father. Of course I   
did. I still do. Somebody has to. He has nobody else.   
  
However, I could no longer truly trust him as I had before. So I, like   
Hiroyuki, too no longer had anybody else. I wish I could say that I   
fell for Hiroyuki because he was the perfect man, and I'm not sorry I   
did, but there really isn't any such person. I think, this is what   
really drove me into his arms.  
  
When father found out, his reaction was less of the protective father   
than the cuckolded husband.  
  
I had told father I was going out on the day of the wake for Hiroyuki's   
grandfather, but I didn't tell him exactly why, just that I had things   
to do in town. I stayed much longer than I'd originally intended. I   
hadn't exactly planned to confess my feelings to Hiroyuki that day; it   
just happened that way.  
  
When I finally got in father was not pleased at all. "What kept you out   
so late?"  
  
"If you must know, father," I said, "I was at a wake." Surely, I   
thought, that was a good reason to be out, and it was true.  
  
"Could you not have told me that before you went out, instead of making   
me play guessing games?" he said, suspicion in his voice. "Who for?"  
  
"The grandfather of a classmate of mine."  
  
"Did you know the man?"  
  
"Not well."  
  
"Then you'd no business there. You should have been here, looking after   
your own family. I had to make my own dinner tonight."  
  
"I know the classmate," I protested, a bit self-righteously I admit.   
"Isn't that enough?"  
  
"Who's the classmate?"  
  
I hesitated despite myself. "Hiroyuki Miyazawa."  
  
"Your man who lives in that enormous house up the road?"  
  
"Yes, father."  
  
"So what kept you?"  
  
"After everybody else left he was all alone, father. I suppose I felt   
sorry for him, so I stayed after and made him dinner." I repeated   
myself. "He's all alone, father. His grandfather was all he had. He had   
nobody else."  
  
"Neither have I!" Father hadn't a bit of sympathy. "So you made some   
fella dinner when your father needed his own dinner made?"  
  
"I'm sorry, father." I wasn't really--I was sure I'd done nothing   
wrong--but suddenly there was a murderous look in his eyes.  
  
"All by himself in that house is he?"  
  
"Yes, father."  
  
He turned away. "You're not to go up there again. No telling what he'd   
try, and you alone in that house."  
  
"Father, Hiroyuki's not like that! He's a very sweet boy. You remember   
him, don't you? We used to play together all the time..."  
  
"It's different now. He's a man. I don't want you all alone with men.   
Girls get a reputation that way, they do. If he wants to see you he can   
come over here, where I can keep an eye on him." He sniffed. "Sure, he   
was a rotter even when he was small. You'd come home crying and it'd   
always be because of him. You didn't need him then, you don't need him   
now..."  
  
"Father! If you don't want me seeing him, just say so!"  
  
Then he looked me in the eye and he said plain as day, "Fine. If I have   
to do that, I will. I don't want you seeing that fella. I need you here   
where you belong. I'll tell you this too. If I ever find out he tried   
anything funny on you I'll make him a cripple, and you can tell him   
that as well, unless you want me to go up to that house of his and tell   
him myself."  
  
"Father! Be reasonable! How will I ever find a husband if I--"  
  
"I'll find you one when you're ready to get married. That's a good way   
off yet. When the time comes I'll find you a man who'll give you a good   
home. All your man Miyazawa'll give you is a reputation. I was his age   
too, I know what they're like at his age. They're all like that."  
  
"Father--"  
  
"Miyako, you're not to see him and that's the end of it!" It was almost   
a bellow. "And if I find out you were, so help me I'll tan your hide!"   
He scowled, but he continued in a more moderate voice, "Have you   
homework?"  
  
"Yes, father?"  
  
"Then you'd best start it. You need to be in bed soon."  
  
Of course, I was a teenage girl, so all father succeeded in doing was   
ensuring I made a point of seeing Hiroyuki whenever I got the chance. I   
wish I could say I gave myself to Hiroyuki for the first time for some   
reason other than the desire to spite father, but that's how it was.   
People have done worse things to spite their parents. The next Saturday   
I told father I was going out with some girlfriends after school. After   
school hat I actually did was I went straight to Hiroyuki's house   
because I knew he didn't work Saturdays, and threw myself at him.   
  
Neither of us really knew what we were doing. One learns how to satisfy   
one's lover over time. As it was, he came in my hand before I even got   
his shorts off, almost as soon as I put my hand on him, which is proof   
of how inexperienced he was. Of course in retrospect that was probably   
just as well (we had no condoms or anything like that), but he was   
terribly embarrassed about it, and apologized and asked what he should   
do. So I sat with him on his futon, between his legs, and asked him to   
feel me inside my panties, which he did.   
  
I had some experience satisfying myself that I could have done a much   
better job on my own, but to his credit he was able to get me off,   
though it wasn't particularly intense. When we were done he apologized   
for not doing a better job, and I told him it was all right and I loved   
him, and he said he loved me too, and we held each other for a long   
time.  
  
It could have been a lot worse, in short, but even if it had, it would   
have been worth it for the thrill of cheating on father. I didn't tell   
Hiroyuki that, but that was what I was really doing.  
  
For the record, Hiroyuki's gotten better since.   



End file.
